


Were Cat's Cradle

by avyssoseleison



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Creature Castiel, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Knotting, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omega Dean, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:30:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avyssoseleison/pseuds/avyssoseleison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was used to being hunted; as a Were Creature, he was considered nothing more than a malady and maybe a trophy for those who would have dared to go after him and skin him. Just like this one hunter with green eyes, unbelievable world-weariness, and a clumsy step that left him at Castiel's mercy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Were Cat's Cradle

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a quick and hard PWP, and then I — I don't know what happened.

Castiel watched the man as his body slowly started twitching, showing signs of awakening, eyelids fluttering. He only stayed in the state between sleep and wakefulness for a very short time as only seconds after his first stirring, he ripped open his eyes and probably tried to make a move to stand up, but all he managed was a vain little struggle against his own hurting body and his weakened muscles, resulting in an angry groan and his eventual return to motionlessness upon the bed of hay and blankets. Castiel watched him in the dim shine of the dozen candles that lit up the cave, and which were unnecessary for Castiel but granted the human some sight. The man noticed Castiel and stared at him.

Castiel stared back, raising an eyebrow but remaining silent.

The man — the hunter, more precisely, for that profession had been the reason the two of them had even met that morning three days ago — narrowed his strangely beautiful green eyes indignantly and huffed out air.

"Where am I?"

"What do you think?"

"In your den."

"That's correct."

"Why?"

"You attacked me."

The hunter made a motion as if to shake his head in disbelief, but his hurting muscles and the weakness he must have felt after having lain down for three days, consuming no food, prevented him from doing so.

"Then why didn't you kill me?" He looked torn between amusement and rage; Castiel assumed that it was customary for the victor of a fight to kill the loser where he came from. "Why am I still alive and all bandaged up?" He frowned down at his motionless body; the smell of the ointments and herbs Castiel had used upon the broken skin of his torso and limbs and then had cleanly covered with cloth lay thick the air — yet not as thick as the hunter's smell itself. The man shifted slightly on his bedding, and Castiel assumed that he had taken his first breaths through the nose, sucking in the odour that suffused the cave.

"I thought about killing you," Castiel conceded, "about eating you and making a pelt out of your skin just like the likes of you do to my people. I considered doing so while you were alive so that the stench of your fear would permeate your skin, letting everyone know just exactly how you died and what I think of you hunters."

The hunter was evidently not too keen on this idea, if the slight tinge of green on his otherwise blanched skin and the grim line of his lips was anything to go by.

"So it's true what they say about you Were Creatures."

The smile that graced Castiel's lips was anything but friendly. "What is it then that they say about us? That we're cruel? That we are without the emotions you humans are so proud of?" He slowly raised himself from the bunch of bundled hay he spent these last few days, watching the hunter he approached in drawn-out steps. "What I just told you is exactly what you would've done to me had you not grossly over-estimated your ability to jump and under-estimated the width of that crevice. I would be dead by now, displayed in front of more of your kind, all drunk on yeast beverages and the misjudgement of what you really are: _brutes_." He pretty much spat the word at the human he now towered over.

"'S not it." The hunter, probably in the lunacy of his situation, smiled back at him, mockingly. "What they say about you is that you lack the guts to fucking go through with your shit and that you're only on the verge of extinction cause you're too _soft_."

It probably should have been expected that right the very moment after, Castiel had plunged down on him, his hands closed around the still-smiling hunter's throat, his face set in a deep, cold anger, with his blue eyes fixated on the insane one he half-lied upon.

"Have you lost the last of your mind along with all that blood when you fell down into the crevice, hunter? Is it outside of your mental capacity to see that even I have my limits on—" He fell silent for a moment, studying the face right in front of him, with the fear lying beneath the false sneer and the way the man didn't even try to draw in a breath beneath the pressing fingers of Castiel. "You want to die," he assessed, and what a strange revelation. "You want me to kill you, that's why you provoke me." He slightly tilted his head, intrigued as much as confused. Suicide was not unheard of even under Were Creatures, but that was usually when individuals were in too much pain to carry on. Castiel had tended to the hunter's injuries, though, knew that they could not have been as bad as to bring upon a death wish. "Why?"

"I can smell you," the hunter wheezed, and Castiel let off his throat a bit, letting him draw in air.

"So you can."

"I bet you can smell me, too."

The corners of Castiel's mouth twitched. "I can. Very much so."

The hunter nodded a few times to himself. "That's why you rescued me, right? You smelled I was an Omega, so you didn't kill me, don't even strike me down right now. Tell you what, though." He looked at Castiel with all the defiance he could muster up. "I'd rather die than be fucked by you."

The expression on Castiel's face now developed into a full-blown smirk. "Oh? Is that so? I knew you humans didn't give much about _our_ lives, but that you'd care so little about your _own_ ones is a bit of a surprise, I must say. Are all hunters like you? Do all of you look down upon us Were Creatures the same way you do, the same way that makes you wish for an end instantly?"

The hunter huffed weakly and tried to turn his head to look away, but Castiel grasped his chin and held him still.

"I actually really would like to know, hunter."

His freckled face — and Castiel had never once seen freckles in real life and up close — twisted into an abased kind of anger. "Maybe not all of them. Some of them probably'd hold still."

"How interesting." More so even than the long and dark lashes that framed those defiant yet resigned eyes and those full lips that were broken in places from the dryness they had been in for three days. Then again, they had been wetted in those moments that Castiel had to lay his own lips upon them as to pour water down his throat. The unconscious, desperate movements they usually fell into against Castiel's lips were almost endearing — in fact, not just almost; it was. It was endearing. It made Castiel want to find out more about the man who so forlornly looked for contact and a tender touch even in his deepest sleep, it had made Castiel not kill him and not just give him away to his kin to let them do whatever they liked to. He had thought about it. But he knew what they would have down to him, how they would take him against his will and then throw him away to let him wither away on his own on the wayside, bloody and broken, and it had become harder and harder to wish it upon him. With every time the hunter's breath hitched slightly when Castiel drew back from his lips to take another sip of water, with every time the hunter moaned some Sam's and his mother's and father's name, and especially when those eyes had opened for the first time, on the evening of the second day, and the hunter hadn't even been fully conscious, but still breathed out a quiet thanks, with just the tiniest of smiles, whimpered, and then fell back into the darkness.

Maybe the hunters actually were right about what they said about Were Creatures. At least when it came to Castiel; he sincerely hoped that he was the only one of them who was as weak-willed and merciful. Then again, it would have meant that the other ones would have, indeed, taken the Omega in very much the same way he seemed to expect that Castiel intended to, and that thought was unbearable.

"You, though, you wouldn't, would you?" Dean didn't answer as Castiel took in his flawless features — he never thought he'd consider a human of all things mesmerizing, but that was simply the only word to describe the man below him. "You'd prefer death to being taken against your will, but I wonder if I touched you, would you hold still the same way as you did when I had my hands on your throat."

The hunter's eyes snapped to his, and they were ridden with disgust and trepidation. "What, you'd like to find out? Like I said, the reason you Were Creatures are in such a state is cause you never go through with your threats. So do whatever the fuck you want, but don't go all 'Will he, won't he?' on me."

Castiel scrutinized the way the hunter's features distorted with his words, the strange dance his fear and loathing and the remaining defiance made and how it gave him the look of an angry yet powerless god. Despite the tone of his voice and his fighting face, his words still held quite a clear meaning.

"So you would." This made Castiel sad, and also actually angry, in all honesty. "You would hold still, would let me do it. Is that it? All you do is provoke me, but there are never even any threats; it's like you just lie down and wait for either the pain to come or for it to finally, definitely stop. You never even try to fight it."

"What do _you_ care, dammit? I'm a hunter, what's it to you? I came here to take you out, sell your fucking pelt, buy my family and myself some nice things while your skinned body would lie around rotting — how about you took that into consideration?"

Castiel slowly let his hand slide from the hunter's chin to his cheek, where even the skin that stretched over the tiny hint of bones was peppered with his freckles. "What's your name, hunter?"

The hunter leaned into the touch, but after a few seconds, as if he just now remembered whose hand laid on him, he suddenly shied away from it, tried to get rid of the warmth. Just as he closed off his face and again gave it his best to not make an eye contact with Castiel, but he didn't let him.

"Wouldn't you like the person who will kill you to at least know your name?"

The hunter flinched even though he tried to cover it up by looking angry again. Castiel detested to see the tiniest bit of relief beneath the anger and fear.

"Dean."

"Dean—?" Castiel knew humans usually also had collective names for their families by which they also liked to call themselves. It was a tradition he found endearing, but there was nothing like it when it came to the Were Creatures. His kin also didn't have families in that sense, although some came together as packs, devoting themselves to their Alpha. It wasn't the same, though, it lacked the kind of fondness humans had for their own.

"Winchester. Dean Winchester."

A thankful smile flitted over Castiel's lips. "My name is Castiel."

Dean nodded and swallowed heavily. "Well, good, that's great. Are you gonna get on with it now, then?"

"You mean—"

"Killing me, Castiel, _yes_." He almost looked betrayed, but mostly exasperated. "I know that as a Were Panther, a cat, you're probably used to playing with your food, but I'd _really_ appreciate it, y'know. I'd like to get this over with, be done with all this shit."

Castiel contemplated this for a moment.

"When was the last time another human made love to you, Dean?"

Dean's eyes went wide. Shock and, yes, this was actual betrayal, and terror made his face into something ugly and hurting. He caught himself just a second later, but when he spoke, his voice contained the very same emotions.

"So you really are gonna ra—"

"I'm not," Castiel interjected hastily. "I'm not going to… rape you."

Dean made a small noise of disbelief; a snort.

"So what, instead you're gonna _make love_ to me or what?"

"I would very much like to do so, yes."

The kind of disbelief upon Dean's face was less just shock and more of a very obvious, _'Are you fucking kidding me?'_ now.

"What," Dean croaked.

"I," Castiel started hesitatingly, "I thought about it. Making love, as you humans call it." Dean seemed to want to say something about this, but Castiel ignored him. "Us Were Creatures seldom engage in any kind of sexual activity if not for the pure purpose of reproduction or as a mean to show dominance. But I know that humans oftentimes also see it was a way of expressing emotion, of making the other person feel loved and wanted. Just like you kiss or hug, which we don't." Castiel wished he didn't know about all this, but at the same time, he had thought about the way their lips had moved against each other whenever he had poured water down Dean's throat as something akin to a kiss. Never before had he longed for any kind of physical contact, but he couldn't deny that he had been thinking about properly kissing the hunter every time he so much as looked his way. The thought of sex was a new one, though. So new, in fact, that he had just come up with it. He was sure that Dean was just as removed from any kind of tenderness as Castiel was, just as starving for a touch that did not harm. Such as when Dean had leaned into Castiel's hand, even though he knew whom it belonged to. In a sudden strike of emotion, Castiel had decided that he wanted to at least offer to give this to Dean — to let him decide whether to take that kind of solace before he would die. He knew that Dean despised Were Creatures, but at the same time, how could he have preferred solitude and coldness to be the last things he'd ever feel?

"If you don't want to, I will not. I promise you this. I will instead give you a fast and painless death."

Dean screwed up his eyes and pressed through his teeth, "Just do it."

Sadness befell Castiel, but he had just promised to follow his wishes, so he would not go back on his words. "If immediate death is your final wish, I understand, and I will honour it."

"What?" Dean's eyes immediately flew open and he stared at Castiel, probably a bit embarrassed by his knee-jerk reaction. "No!" He cleared his throat. "No, I mean… do the other thing."

Castiel's face lit up in fascination and relief. "Make love to you?"

Dean grimaced. "Yeah, but don't call it— urgh, yes. Make love to me."

"May I kiss you?"

"Better don't, I'll probably taste like…" His jaw made a motion as if he tasted his own mouth for the first time since waking up, and raised an eyebrow. "…herbs?"

"I tried to keep your body as clean as possible."

"Why that, does it increase the value of my skin?" Dean half-joked.

"Not necessarily." Castiel smiled. "May I kiss you, then?"

Dean blew out air through his teeth. "Yeah, go on."

Castiel's face went soft when he bent down and pressed his lips upon the hunter's cracked ones. Finally could he feel them without feeling like taking advantage of a sleeping person. Yet, they were just as yielding yet unmoving like before, and after Castiel had put a couple of little kisses on them, he drew back, frowning.

A barely concealed smirk lifted the corners of Dean's mouth — it was not a mocking smirk, though, it seemed less intend on making fun, it almost appeared… playful.

With this thought in mind, Castiel went back to press his lips against Dean's, letting them slowly move against them. He wasn't sure whether they actually were reciprocating at least a bit more, but he told himself that they did. It was quite clear that they did when he cautiously swiped his tongue over the seam of Dean's mouth, making him gasp in surprise, and he did not waste the opportunity and licked into his mouth. It was warm and wet inside and then there was Dean's tongue, tentatively making contact with his.

Castiel smiled into the play of it, fully slanted his lips against Dean's and towed him into an open-mouthed kiss, in which the hunter finally took action himself and let his tongue stroke over Castiel's just like his lips greedily moved against his.

Castiel decided he really liked kissing Dean, especially now that he finally reciprocating.

After who knows who long, Dean broke the kiss and drew in air. His breathlessness was also evident in his voice, when he noted, "Your tongue is barbed."

As much was clear. "Yours is not."

"Please tell me that's the only thing that is. Because, uh, I can tell you, my body is not made for—"

"As far as I know, my penis is just like one of any other Alpha of your species would be like. The only outer features of this form of mine differ from you humans by my pupils, my fangs and my tongue." He couldn't help the tiny smirk. "Shouldn't you already be aware of that, though, hunter?"

"Uh, the only Were dicks I've seen had been covered by their protective skin, and really, I never looked too closely."

"Why not?"

Dean shot him a look. "Why the heck would I?"

"Is it not interesting to a hunter? To see what our bodies are made of? I always revel in how your human bodies are like, how they are much more prone to pain and also pleasure than ours." One of his hands skimmed over the bandaged and anointed skin; not all of it was covered, one of the strangely pink nipples of the hunter still laid bare, such as the slightly flushed skin of his throat, neck and collarbone. "I would have imagined that you would at least take a proper look once."

Dean dipped down his eyes. "You are considered animals; it's weird to think of anything sexual when it comes to animals."

"Yet you have decided to engage in 'anything sexual' with me," he mused. His hand skimmed even lower, down to the seam of the simple linen pants Castiel had covered him with, and he grasped Dean's already semi-hard dick with no further ado.

Caught off-guard, Dean groaned.

"You— you're different. I mean, you're not even in your animal form, so you look just like a human, a hot one at that, you cared for me instead of eating me, you speak to me and are actually trying to fucking seduce me, man. Can't blame a guy for reacting to you, especially when this'll be my last fuck ever."

"We're making love," Castiel simply stated, and then he went back to engulf his tongue in the heat of Dean's desperate mouth.

He shifted himself from his former position of being half-draped over Dean into one in which he sat on top of Dean's thighs, with one hand tilting Dean's chin towards him and into his kisses and the other one exploring the body beneath him in a less clinical way than he had done before. It was quite exciting, because even if he had to watch that he didn't pitch his fingers into some of the only now scabbing wounds, the skin that laid bare to him was responsive to his every touch — especially the nipples. He slid a bit closer to Dean's crotch, so that he could feel his cock right at his own, and then he started rubbing his nipple in hard circles, making the nub tight and Dean pant.

He could smell Dean's arousal now clearly; could smell his slick the same way he could feel Dean's dick completely stiffen against Castiel's.

It was glorious and irresistible; he had to be inside the Omega right now.

"Dean, spread your legs for me."

The hunter looked at him with new-found trepidation while Castiel started opening his own pants. "What is it?"

"Are you gonna fuck into me right now?"

Castiel didn't bother correcting him on the term. "That's what I intended to, yes."

Dean nervously licked his already slick and swollen lips. "No preparation?"

Castiel drew his eyebrows together. "You're an Omega, are you not? Does your anatomy differ that much from those of the were creature Omegas?" He contemplated this for a moment. "But then, I can smell your slick."

It was obvious that Dean was a bit uncomfortable with the direct statement on the arousal of his body as he squirmed beneath Castiel and looked at him somewhere between embarrassed and undignified. "It's just— I never had anyone do this to me, alright? Never had anyone _inside of me_ before. Everyone I fucked were either Betas or female Alphas, but never this."

Castiel was flooded with a feeling of exhilaration and animalistic possessiveness. "You're a virgin?"

"I'm not a virgin, _Jesus Christ._ Just that single part of me is."

"I am not your God's son, but I understand." He simply left his open pants dangle, and even though his erection was very evident through the open space in the front, he didn't bother to make any move on himself. Instead, he starting tugging on Dean's pants and pulled them down cautiously, and before they even had gone so far as his knees, the sweet and heady smell of Dean's slick just about smacked him in the face.

He could feel how his own gaze darkened. Dean sharp intake of breath told him that he had noticed as well.

Castiel crawled back over the hunter on shaking limbs. "I will now use my fingers to open you up to me." Dean just nodded, studying his face until Castiel took his lips in a hungry kiss.

Simultaneously, Castiel's hands rubbed up and down Dean's thighs, letting him know where they were and making him relax under his warm touch. Castiel had, naturally as a Were Creature, never cared much about something like loosening up his partner finger by finger, but he couldn't deny that he looked forward to it. It seemed a very human thing to do, and he knew that Dean was going to enjoy it very much — and he dearly wanted to make him make more of his little, pleased noises.

His hands wandered closer to their actual destination, caressed his butt cheeks in a calming manner until he massaged them for bit, just gripping into the supple flesh and testing out the play of the muscles and how it made Dean make small, aborted motions upwards, as if looking for some sweet pressure to grind against. He found nothing of the sort, however, because Castiel kept away, hovering over him, knowing that Dean's muscles were too sore and aching to do anything more.

One of his hands finally came to a rest on one butt cheek, holding on enough to allow it to spread the cheek to the side and bare his pucker, while the other hand's index finger chased his dripping rim in a feather-light touch.

Dean swallowed and looked at him expectantly. Castiel pressed a tiny little kiss right below Dean's ear the moment his first finger slipped inside.

Ah, yes. The sounds Dean made and the way he bucked up into Castiel were even more beautiful than he had hoped for. Funny, actually, since it was only one single finger that now curiously slide in and out of the willing Omega, which had to not have been too fulfilling. Then again, Dean had said that he was never touched there in this way before — and if you took this, along with the delicious sensitivity his body possessed, into consideration, the immediate surrender of his body to the Were Creature made sense.

The second finger went inside just as easily, albeit his muscles clenched this time strongly around them.

Castiel's lips were still busy peppering Dean's mouth and his completely open and vulnerable face with kisses, his unoccupied hand soothingly stroked his side. "You are doing very good, Dean, absolutely beautiful." And he _was_. "You take my fingers really well, I almost wouldn't believe you have never done this before."

"I," Dean panted beneath him, the praise had made him even more pliant against Castiel. "I had my fingers inside of me before, a couple of times."

Castiel explored the silky hot skin of his inside, and he assumed that his cock would be a bit of a tight fit when he'd first press into him, but he was sure Dean would relax around him very quickly. "Only a couple of times? Why is that? It's obvious you enjoy this a great deal, or does this feel different with your own fingers?"

Again, Dean seemed embarrassed by the topic, but he was the one who started talking about it, who went into a different depth, so maybe despite his embarrassment, he wanted to talk to somebody about this — even if it was to a Were Creature that was about to kill him. "I don't like people to touch me like that — I don't — _oh_ — wanna be an Omega. Hell, my family doesn't want me to be an Omega as well — all of them are Alphas and have been for generations. I took stuff to — _ngh_ — suppress my hormones for a long time, but I forgot all about them when I went to see my family last week because my father was being an ass all the time, so I was busy shouting and then went looking for something to kill. That's, _hah hah_ , how I ended up here in the first place." His smile was self-deprecating. "Heh, pathetic."

"Do you think you could take a third finger?" Dean looked at Castiel as if he had forgotten all about what was happening right now until this non-sequitur — which was good inasmuch that Castiel had succeeded in losing the muscle quite nicely. When Dean nodded, Castiel played with the hot and inviting skin of his rim for a few moments, letting his body know that there was more to come, and then he cautiously wiggled the tip of his third finger in along with the other ones — it took a bit, the muscle unwilling to give in, but then Dean opened up and let a loud moan escape. "Your family doesn't accept you?"

Dean breathed out heavily when Castiel started sliding his digits in and out in a small rhythm. "They don't, _hah_. Well, my brother says he don't mind and I'm the one who provides for him, and my mother doesn't, too, — a _h ah oh God_ — but I know that my father hates it, is ashamed of me."

Castiel frowned. "I don't think so." Dean's face said rather clearly that he, though, did — it also said that he very much enjoyed how Castiel thumbed at his stretched little hole. "Your body is beautiful, responsive and giving, and I could not imagine yourself to be much else." He paused for a moment. "Well, you are also a hunter, but right now, you are letting a Were Creature pleasure you and you are, as they say, positively putty in my hands, so I don't really understand what that is about. Nonetheless, it seems strange for your father to think anything else, and if he does, I would believe him to be a fool."

Dean's chuckle was interspersed with small moans. "Now you're just sweet-talking me."

Castiel shoved all of his fingers into Dean's body, brushing over his prostate with frightening precision — and the hunter shuddered and wailed, gripping for Castiel with his less-injured hand. "I highly doubt that's necessary."

Dean laughed silently. "You'll be the death of me."

A small one, perhaps, Castiel thought to himself. Instead, he said to Dean, "I would like to penetrate you now."

Dean shut his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, he nodded with conviction. "Go ahead."

Castiel followed suit and slowly redrew his fingers from Dean's fluttering hole — the noises he made almost tempted Castiel to leave them there and just keep on fingering him. However, that would have been a waste of even more delight, for both of them, so he stroked one last time over the wet pucker and then laid his hands on Dean's hips. "I will turn you around now."

"Huh, why?"

Castiel had already taken Dean's arm into his hands and started turning him around. Dean's voice seemed a bit dissatisfied but Castiel didn't care that much as he knew exactly what he was doing. "Because it will be far easier for you to take me when enter you. Your body is not used to penetration."

"But I wanna— nevermind."

"What, Dean?"

"I said nevermind."

Castiel let it go in favour of taking in the sight before him: Dean's face was rested on his makeshift pillow but angled to the side, so that he could see the green of his eyes, his long and strong body, albeit covered in bandages, spoke of a perfect partner for mating, of one who would have had no problems accepting whatever an Alpha would give him, be it a cock, his children or even a life at his side, and the easily-exposed, slightly opened and shining pucker seemed so inviting that Castiel couldn't wait a second longer.

"Brace yourself," he said in a heavy breath. The hand not holding open Dean's butt quickly fumbled with the front of Castiel's pants, closed around his achingly hard erection, heavy and dripping and so eager, just like Dean's body seemed, and he positioned it at the top of Dean's crack.

So slowly as if he wanted to torture himself, he let the tip of his erection run through the crack, moistening everything with his very own film, up and down, until he heard Dean whimper and beg quietly, "Please, Cas."

And who was he to further deny both of them this pleasure?

"Dean," he breathed as his cock caught on his rim, and then he pressed against the wet and loose muscle, breaching it and finally entering the softly outcrying body beneath him.

Heat.

Heat and wetness and a tightness he had never experienced before.

He groaned in his helplessness, wanted to just shove inside all of his thickness, wanted to fill Dean with himself, wanted to make him feel treasured and desired and let him see how perfect he was, but he couldn't, he had to be considerate of his never before penetrated mate, and he was rendered speechless and shaking and somehow managed to stop after some inches.

Both of them panted heavily, stunned by their own lust and how they knew that it would be fulfilled.

"Dean?"

" _Deeper_. _More._ " His voice was as raw and broken as Castiel felt.

Castiel obeyed, because he was unable to do anything else, and went deeper, put all of himself inside of Dean, until his crotch was flush against Dean's ass, and once again, both of them were stunned into motionlessness.

"You…" Dean began.

"You feel incredible," Castiel closed.

Dean squirmed around his cock, and _oh, maybe he should keep still for a moment longer, so very tight and gripping and hot._

"Dean," Castiel pressed out in a warning.

"'S fine. Move. _Please_."

And so he did. Not in cautious little thrusts, though, like he had intended to, but once he had heard those words and pulled out and pressed in even just that tiny bit, he gripped Dean's hips with both of his hands, held them still and tilted up against his cock, and _fucked_ into him.

Dean cried out, loudly and ridden with lust, screwed his eyes shut and just let all of those noises Castiel had longed to hear escape his throat. They were even louder than the sound of skin against skin and Castiel's own moans and ripped out of him with every slam into him.

How could he not have known how good this can be? He had copulated with other Were Creatures a thousand times, had reached climax again and again, but nothing stood even the slightest of chances against how Dean tried to fuck back against him and how his scraped hands were fisted into the blankets he laid on. He wanted to always feel this, always wanted to have Dean clenched around his cock, pounding into him like a parched man finally finding water, because there simply wasn't any feeling that came even close to how smooth and welcoming Dean's body was, how it seemed to loath to let Castiel's erection go even as far as just outside his rim even though it always came back inside with a hard and even deeper thrust, right against Dean's prostate.

He was greedy, he knew. Worse yet, he wanted even more: to take Dean in with all of his senses, not just feel and hear him, but taste him, smell the salt on his skin instead of the ointment, see his face and his features while he pleasured him. Not just the enticing sight of his back, but especially every little emotion in his beautiful green eyes.

Yes.

Without wasting another second, Castiel took one of his hands from Dean's hips and put it instead on his shoulder and turned him to the side, or at least tried to, because while Dean's torso tried to go with the motion, he failed to do so properly, resulting in his back resting almost fully on the blankets but with his his hips still twisted to the side.

Castiel took that one of leg that Dean did not rest his body on and positioned it on his own shoulder; by doing so, he eased up his way inside of him rather nicely, but it also granted him the view of his face and of Dean's cock bobbing heavily and wetly against his stomach. Castiel stared at it.

"You really do enjoy this," Castiel noted in slight awe.

Dean shot him a look.

"No shit, Sherlock," he gasped.

A smile lit up Castiel's face, and while he held Dean's hips with one hand, his other went to Dean's cock. His knuckles softly stroked the underside of it, until he took it in his hands with a firm grasp. Dean groaned. Castiel's smile only grew bigger and he started up some loose strokes.

"Whenever us Were Creatures copulate, it doesn't matter whether the Omega is enjoying what is being done. It is of far greater importance that the Alpha is being pleased, seeing as whether he ejaculates is mandatory for a successful breeding. But this…" His thumb slid over the wet and waiting cleft of the head of Dean's dick, and it was impossibly satisfying to see him whimper and quiver because of it. "This brings me great pleasure. I don't understand how you could ever voluntarily deny yourself the delight an unbelievable sight such as your face twisted in pleasure brings me."

Dean, already in shambles, shot back. "Yeah, well, we know how not to fuck like animals." He looked away. "Also, please stop saying shit like that — it's embarrassing."

Castiel forewent his little slight and instead took more notice of his other statement. "What is? Telling you that seeing you take pleasure in our activities brings me pleasure as well?"

"Yeah, and that stuff about how my face pretty much turns you on to no end."

"But it does."

Dean flushed deeply now. "Just don't say it. 'S weird. Humans don't talk about how they could cream their pants when looking at each other's faces. We talk about the other one's body, how hot and tight it is, how they can't wait to do you and whatever, but not that — especially not when you're doing it with a stranger."

"I guess it is true that you are hot inside and also really very tight as well." He let his hand rest on the base of Dean's cock and pressed slightly into his perineum with his thumb, until it also glided over the stretched and swollen skin of Dean's hole around Castiel. Dean gasped. "But that is to be expected from a virginal Omega. I would not enjoy this did I not know that you did so as well, at least a bit. But seeing you like this…" He shook his head. "You humans came up with so much about sex, such as how you look each other in the eye, how to have sex even if your bodies were not originally meant to interlock with some partners, and the kissing." He smiled and softly pressed his lips against Dean's knee. "All of it is an expression of affection, so shouldn't you find special delight in knowing the person you are trying to show this affection to is gaining great pleasure from your touch alone?"

Dean gritted his teeth, albeit his expression smoothed out rather quickly when Castiel re-adjusted his grip on his hip and turned him just that bit more, making him open to a very good angle for Castiel to pound into, just as he picked up jacking him again.

"I'm not someone you — _ah_ — should show any kind of affection to. You're — oh God, _Cas_ — gonna — uh, yes, _just like that, fuck_ — kill me for trying to kill you, remember?"

The sight of Dean's face like this was just as lovely as Castiel thought it would be. He still needed more, though, needed to really fill all of his senses with Dean.

Castiel leaned forward to capture Dean's lips in a quick kiss; he shoved even deeper due to the change of angle, albeit his thrusts lost quite a bit of his pace. Dean, though, Dean seemed not to care, his moans and little broken whimpers became even more prominent, his whole body more strung-out with the slow and wet — and clearly audible — drag of Castiel's cock into his body. He all but melted into Castiel's kisses.

It took Castiel some moments to even notice how pliant Dean had gone beneath him, for he himself was too caught up in the kissing. When he did so, a new surge of adoration passed through him. Dean seemed most pleased by their slow going now, and for all that Castiel knew, this was what he himself had thought about when he first heard the term 'making love'. Of course, he had assumed that there would be something to distinguish the lovemaking from the simple animalistic copulation, but he had thought that what set them apart was the eye contact, the make-shift for techniques and especially the kisses, but he had never considered how, ultimately, the difference would be in how you apply all this; how you can still be rather frantic and set loose but draw closer to each other. Now he knew. Dean relished the most when his body was not taken in a forceful manner and not looked at like some anonymous body with a hole, but when his partner took his time and slowly gave him pleasure, covered him with their own body and showed him through kisses and tender touches that he was cherished.

Dean was most intriguing.

Castiel smiled a secret smile as his kisses fell upon Dean's chin and his eyelids and his cheeks, all while Dean went with the motions and tried to re-capture his lips, a little desperately. He did not protest, though, in any way, unlike before. Which was understandable because it was quite clear from one look at his slaw-jacked and flushed face that he must have been all out of words and of protests. Perhaps it was good that he thought that Castiel would kill him afterwards, because if he assumed that those were his last moments, he most likely had already fought hard to stop thinking and just indulge in whatever he was being given last. There could be no shame in letting go of his inhibitions if he were to let go of his very life in just a few moments.

What he did not yet know was that Castiel had already stopped of thinking about killing him. How could he, anyway? This man, despite all his faults and despite even that he was solely here in the first place because he wanted to take Castiel's life, was all soft and yielding and lovable beneath the were creature's hands, showing the last person he thought he'd ever see something that he probably never let himself be given to before. It must have been a sad, a lonely existence for him — very much like Castiel's. But both of them were already one, in their bodies at least, joint in their need, so how could Castiel not show mercy to this one person whose last wish was to be loved? How could he not want to continue to do so?

"Dean," Castiel breathed against the hunter's jaw and his throat as his kisses wandered lower. He punctuated the calling of his name with a deep thrust that obviously hit the his prostate delicously as Dean squirmed and moaned in his grip. "Dean," he said again, this time with the kind of urgency that spoke of him trying to call Dean to attention.

"Cas," Dean replied breathlessly.

The hand Castiel has had on his hip skimmed over the heated skin and around the hunter's waist, holding him still while his barbed tongue swiped over Dean's sensitive nipple with abandon but no mercy. Dean thrashed under his ministrations, and what a marvel it was how a hunter such as him, someone who must have been hurt and injured countless times, was still so utterly _responsive_.

The pink skin of his nipples quickly became reddened and lightly swollen, and Castiel _adored_ it.

"I have made a decision," Castiel murmured between kisses and gentle nips of his fangs. This, coupled with the slow up-and-down motion of his hand over the excruciatingly hard cock of Dean obviously rendered him speechless. He only made a soft sound that bid him to go on. "I will not kill you."

This seemed to have been something finally worth reaction for, as Dean tensed in his arm, stared at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. "What—?"

"I will not kill you," Castiel repeated. He drew the rigid body even closer to himself, their warm and long limbs finally flush against each other, and he continued his kisses over his nipples for a few moments before he wandered back up, speaking while pressing his lips and swiping his tongue over the lovely-tasting skin of his collarbones and throat. "I do believe that would be something I'd regret later on. Especially since I have something else in sight." He sucked on the bobbing and somewhat sweaty Adam's apple, leaving a blooming blemish behind. "I would like to knot you, Dean. I would love to mate you, make you mine, not anyone else's, especially not death's. I want to feel you every day, and I want to give you an affectionate touch just as often. I never felt the need to make love to someone the same way humans do, but now, the thought that I could not give this to you is something I can't endure."

Dean, in what seemed like the beginnings of hysteria, let out a small, distraught laugh. "You can't be serious. You promised me death, Cas, you _promised_!"

In a much too tender gesture, Castiel pressed a fluttering kiss upon his forehead. "I will still give it to you, today, in just a few moment's time, if you want me to. I am not one to go back on my word, not if you want to see it executed." He gently rocked back and forth into the wet and gripping heat Dean welcomed him into, so easily even, even though Castiel was the first one to ever enter his body, to ever be able to lay a claim such as a knotting or even a mating upon him. "I'd prefer not to, though. I'd love to have you here with me, enjoy your warmth and your pleasure, just like this, with your breath hitching whenever I get even deeper into you—" He emphasized his words with a achingly slow drag out of Dean, until the tip was all his hole could clench around, desperately, still so desperately and willingly, and then, without warning, he shoved himself all the way in, making Dean keen and writhe helplessly. Castiel smiled around his own moan. The twitching of the tight passage around him was almost too much. "And I could wake you like this every morning and we could fall asleep like this every night."

Dean, breathlessly and with no end to his hysteria, laughed again. "Fuck, why did I have to be captured by the only Were Creature that's a total sap and has to say all kinds of shit while fucking me?"

Castiel drew his tongue over the seam of Dean's lips that opened up beneath his without any kind of resistance. "We're not 'fucking'." He searched for Dean's tongue with his own, and of course Dean not only let him but stroked his tongue in return. The hunter gasped, a noise Castiel was now somewhat accustomed to but surely would never have grown tired of.

"No, no, we're, _fuck_ , we're making _love_ , — _oh_ — right, Cas?" His sneer might have had more of an effect if his hips were not canted towards Castiel's and trying to respond to every of his thrusts.

"That's correct," Castiel breathed against his lips. He felt the warmth that had been simmering all throughout this growing into a full-fledged heat, consuming his mind and his body in such a way that he could feel the base of his cock beginning to swell.

"You really do mean that, don't you? You actually believe we could end up like some old, married couple, living out here in the woods, just having sex all day."

"I do, yes. I do believe this." He groaned as more blood pumped into his forming knot, making the drag into and out of Dean's body slightly more difficult. It also made Dean stare at him, wide-eyed, and he probably just now noticed that his hole was being forced more widely apart, that the thickness he felt was not just because of Castiel's natural girth but also because Castiel's body had decided that it was about time he claimed the Omega whose dripping slick could only ease the way up to a certain point at which the knot either had to stay in- or outside of him.

Dean whimpered and screwed up his eyes, making Castiel kiss his lids. "Dean, am I hur—"

"Knot me."

Castiel's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Are you—"

"Knot me, alright? Fucking do it! I want to feel you fill me fucking up with your come, I want your fucking knot to spread me wide and keep us connected like some weirdly obsessed idiots, okay? I want this, I want to feel you come deep inside of me, and I want you to bite me and have me as your messed up mate, fuck, breed me or whatever, I don't care! Let me wake up and fall sleep on your knot, like you talked about! Just do it, whatever may come and all that, because I neither want to run away and be alone again nor do I want to fucking die, I want you!"

Castiel did not miss a beat as he surged forward, caught Dean's lip in a deep and filthy kiss and forced his still-swelling knot past the twitching rim. Dean whimpered again and Castiel hoped it was not just out of pain but maybe also some pleasure.

"Fuck, Cas," he groaned, pumping his hips back against him even more fervently than before.

All Castiel could do was to jerk into Dean in tight little shoves, his knot easily big enough to meet his prostate and give him the pleasure he needed to tumble over the edge, even if Castiel's hand would not have been gripped tightly around Dean's cock and stroked him and even if his lips and tongue and teeth were not going up against Dean's, breathlessly.

Castiel could feel it, feel Dean's climax, as he shut his eyes and his whole body went rigid, even on the inside, clenching against the favoured intrusion in such a way that Castiel was all but at his mercy, groaning helplessly, letting his teeth clamp into the soft skin of his throat in an instinct he didn't even know he had and spilling his semen into the depths of Dean's body.

His vision whited out for the second of a bliss.

Both of them panted heavily, too stunned to move or say something. They simply stared at each other, with wide eyes and open mouths, swept away by pleased exhaustion and their combined smell, until another odour than pure pheromones hit Castiel's nose: the smell of his Omega's blood. It made Castiel remember and react, made him swipe his tongue over the broken skin, lapping up the liquid.

Although Dean had stilled below him, he still breathed out a heavy sigh, as if he was glad about this happening, as if he had been unsure whether Castiel would still tend to his wounds, still care for him, instead of just letting him lie here, injured and used.

"Your tongue is still barbed," Dean murmured but didn't tell Castiel to stop his licking, instead he absentmindedly petted his dark hair and let him go on. Castiel just hummed in agreement and placed a kiss on the sore skin.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Epilogue: They have seven children. Cas becomes the one to keep house and care for the kids while Dean goes out to hunt their meals - no Were Creatures anymore, of course. They live in a small cottage in the mountains, because Dean insisted that they'd need something like walls if Cas wanted to keep his word on how Dean falls asleep and gets awakened while there are seven tiny monsters running around. Needless to say, Castiel makes (more than) good on his promise. One of their children becomes the first half-human/half-Were Creature president of the United States.


End file.
